Lucy felt Robert's anguish across the ship and raced from Science Lab 1, fueled more by Hargert's Milchkaffee than anything else. Once she made it to Deck 6 and arrived at Robert's quarters, she smacked the chime repeatedly. "Robert!" Robert, I know you're in there, what's wrong?!

After a few moments the door opened. Robert was sitting on the couch, shirtless and in pajama pants, his head cradled in his hands. When he looked up, baggy-eyed and tired, Lucy saw tears streaming from his eyes down to his bearded chin. "I… I felt her, Lucy," he said hoarsely. "I felt Julie. She's alive… Fassbinder… he's.. he's hurting her."

Lucy stared at him for a moment, but she felt his conviction, his certainty. The feeling that he'd personally felt something like an electroshock reverberate through his body, inflicting terrible agony. He certainly wasn't lying.

But the idea of it. Of a connection across universes. It was beyond anything she'd ever heard of. "Are you sure it's that?" she had to ask. "This… it's never happened."

"I know. It sounds insane," he said. "From what we've experienced, the Flow of Life doesn't traverse universes like this. Connections don't. But I feel her, Lucy. I feel Julia! She's alive and she's in pain and we have to find her."

"We will," Lucy said. "We're making progress on the intel, we should have something later today."

Robert's response was an impatient look. "This is taking too long," he insisted. "It's been days, Lucy. Days. I promised her I'd come for her if this happened!"

Lucy felt his desperation and impatience and it made her heart ache. She wondered how Robert would survive if something would happen to Julia, or if the pain might destroy him. "And you'll get to keep that promise, we all will," Lucy said. "Just… you need to hold it together, Rob. Julia's going to need you to, if we're going to rescue her."

There was a surge of irritation at Lucy's words, as if she was patronizing him. But Robert bit it back. Lucy was trying to help, as always. "I… yeah. I know. It's just…" Robert swallowed. "I saw this coming, Lucy. I've been dreaming of this for years and I still let it catch me by surprise."

"Your dreams of the future have always been potential futures. Not prophecies of what will be. Don't blame yourself for not seeing this coming. None of us saw it." Lucy sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Robert, get some sleep. Get Leo to give you something if you have to. But you need to rest, really rest I mean, because we're going to need to be at tip-top shape for this to work."

Robert nodded slowly to that. "Right. I'll… I'll go to bed."

Lucy looked to his work desk and noted the telltale signs of someone having laid their head on it out of fatigue. He stood and she followed, making sure he laid down before she departed back for Science Lab 1 and the intel that might yet lead them to Julia.

Among other things, the attacks on Gersal and New Liberty had brought Defense Command in Portland back to its peak wartime level of strenuous activity, with the officers and personnel present directing the reactivation of the reserve fleet so recently taken out of service, along with the necessary infrastructure to support and man those extra ships. The prospect of SS or Cylon ships launching another surprise attack ensured the presence of a fleet in orbit and the heightened activity of the planet's assigned fighter units.

The need for defense fleets for the Alliance's major worlds occupied much of Maran's time now, as this need had to be balanced with other defense needs, like the maintenance of the 5th Fleet at Horizon to face potential Dominion aggression, and the demand for ships to protect the spacelanes of the fallen Nazi empire. The Defense Committee was meeting daily, requiring updates, and President Morgan required the same activity.

It was thus after a long day that Maran retired to his office in Defense Command. The skyline of Portland showed the twilight visage of the Alliance's capital city, located at the confluence of the Willamette and Columbia rivers. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy that sight before he turned to one matter he'd been required by duty to hold off: the Aurora's command situation.

The sad truth was that it was unlikely that Captain Andreys would be recovered soon, if at all. It pained him to think that the promise she'd shown was going to be cut short in this manner. Even if she were eventually rescued, after a prolonged period in SS captivity she would be in no shape to resume her command. Likely not ever. The Alliance had lost one of its leading lights and an excellent starship captain.

Another sad truth was that Maran doubted he could arrange a promotion from within the ship's crew. Meridina, as capable a woman as she was, had only the past year of suitable command experience, and Maran doubted he could talk Personnel into giving her command of the Aurora. A year ago Commander Carrey would have been an acceptable candidate, even if his experience was primarily in attackers, but his difficulties with alcohol since New Caprica were not unnoticed by Personnel. Restoring him to the Koenig had required extensive work and Zachary Carrey's own continued sobriety, not to mention his conduct on the Citadel and Germania. A promotion and command of a star cruiser was a less likely prospect at the moment, when his restoration was still a fresh one.

Assigning another Facility hand with command experience was Maran's first choice, but only so many of them had command experience, and they were all in the middle of assignments on key vessels. Personnel would resist such a reassignment, and on the sound grounds of those existing assignments being more important. Thus, after days of thinking it over and testing the waters at Personnel, Maran had one prospect left that didn't involve causing such a struggle with his own people.

He returned to his desk and, after noting the local time for his intended contact, brought his interface online. "Computer, activate IU comms, standard encryption. I need a channel to Rohric. The office of Warmaster Shai'jhur." He waited patiently for the system to work through the needed protocols until it opened the requested channel.

The screen on his desk activated. The tired expression of the gray-tinged figure of the Dilgar Warmaster blinked into appearance, with wide yellow eyes gazing, a bit hoodedly, at the Gersallian Admiral. Maran had trusted her to lead the support forces over Germania, and she had served the cause of light with the same calm aplomb which had let her save the rearguard at Third Balos. "Admiral Maran," she acknowledged, harboring no ill-will to any. "It has been a tumultuous week."

"It has," he acknowledged. "I have heard no reports of attacks on Dilgar space. I trust this holds true?"

"Nothing. I thought the Nazis might regard us as a convenient target for their terror attacks, but we also have a fleet out of proportion to our population, and quickly re-mobilised it," she answered.

"That is good. I am uncertain as to why, but it appears the SS exiles have gone quiescent for the moment. Whether or not this is to build up for a large attack, or if their numbers are lower than we expected and their losses at New Liberty were prohibitive, I cannot say. But I have called you on another matter." Maran set his hands down before him. "You have heard about Captain Andreys?"

"I am afraid not. She was slain at New Liberty, I take it, then?" Shai'jhur's face twisted into a peculiar sort of grimace.

"She is considered missing, and is presumed dead," Maran clarified. "There is some uncertainty on the matter. Her crew are insistent that she was taken captive, and some of our analysts believe that a possibility given what we know of the attack's commander."

"Admiral… I must say that she would be better off dead. This is truly unfortunate. The Nazis will hate her for destroying all they had."

"I said as much to her officers." Maran's expression was grave, as Shai'jhur's point hammered home the horror of that outcome. "Either way, the issue at hand is the command situation on the Aurora. That is the reason I have called you."

"I have already given you my eldest daughter, Admiral. I am grooming Tia'jhur for my heir, and the others did not follow command tracks, or are too young. Of the ones not my blood, War Captain Fiy'jash is a psychiatric casualty after the death of one of her children to the mercenaries during the Tiran crisis. I am not sure who else I would recommend."

Maran nodded. "I understand. But there is a candidate I have in mind, who could make the transition more smooth for the ship's crew." With gravity in his voice, he said, "I would inquire as to the availability of Captain Kaveri Varma."

"My wife." A fond look crossed Shai'jhur's face for a moment. "Admiral, she may have commanded Explorers, and have been used to being a negotiator, a conciliator; but she is an Earthforce officer, and a Dilgar officer, and stricter than your Aurorans will like."

Maran nodded in acknowledgement. "That is true. But the same can be said of many other candidates being considered. I feel that Captain Varma may be the best chance to prevent the crew from splitting up. I…" Maran, for a moment, felt uncomfortable. The thoughts he had were not those he shared. The one man he might have spoken to on the matter was Mastrash Ledosh, and he was now gone. "There is a… matter, Warmaster. It is a delicate one, and one I myself wrestled with for some time, and it pertains to the crew of the Aurora and my efforts to keep them together despite the opposition in my own service."

"By all means, Admiral, you have my confidence. You know I have faced delicate matters before," Shai'jhur answered, her tone and posture creeping into some sympathy. Shai'jhur's wounds were old; Maran's homeworld had been hammered but days before.

"The crew of the Aurora are the standard bearers of our Alliance. That, alone, merits to me every measure I take to keep them intact, regardless of my peers," Maran said. He kept any remaining doubt about this measure from his voice. He would have to trust someone, after all, and Shai'jhur was among the few he would do so with. "But they are more. To a number of my people, a growing number I suspect, they are the Dawn-Bearers."

Shai'jhur braced her hands against her desk and leaned closer, as if to share a secret in person.

"I myself have only come to this view slowly, after consideration and discussions with the late Mastrash Ledosh," Maran continued. "You are aware of Swenya, and what she was to our people. While we lost much in Kohbal's uprising a hundred years after her death, among those things we remember is a prophecy she is said to have given late in her life, using the gift of foresight that the Flow of Life grants to those sensitive to it. That is the Prophecy of the Dawn." Maran reached over to transmit the text to Shai'jhur, in its entirety, the final line once omitted restored due to his correspondence with Ledosh and Robert. He watched her note the incoming data and waited quietly for her to read it.

"To a Dilgar, without the benefit of thousands of years of context and Swenya's stories, it seems maddeningly vague, Maran," she said, informally. "But, I also recognise a real power when I see it. I saw what Lucy Lucero and Meridina showed. I would never discount this power… Being guided by a hand, toward a purpose. One might disbelieve, but one would truly be a fool to disregard. And frankly, from what I have heard of the attack on Gersal… Your enemies may believe it more than we do. That begs the question of whether or not they know something we do not."

Maran nodded grimly. He'd read the reports from Gersal himself. The things said, the things seen. All of the indications that the Cylons were in truth guided by the survivors of Kohbal's dark brotherhood. Given the knowledge lost in that ancient war, how much more did they know of the past than Maran's people? And what was their plan for the future?

With these thoughts still on his mind, Maran continued, "The final lines are, to me, the most important," he said. "There is much my people forgot due to Kohbal, but we remember the stories of Swenya confronting an ancient darkness, and our contact with the time traveling being known as the Doctor confirms that the Darkness do exist. That they are an ancient force, and they are still out in the Multiverse somewhere, on some level of creation, a threat to everything we know. And according to Swenya, the crew of the Aurora may very well be the key to defeating them."

"And if we accept that there is anything good in the universe at all, then… You wish to try and preserve their relevance to prophecy, and also their relevance to hope, as a symbol of the Alliance. You cannot be sure it is enough, but you must try. Am I right?"

Maran nodded. "Yes. We need that symbol. Not just my people, but the Alliance, indeed the entire Multiverse. Especially if our worst fears come to pass, and we do face this ancient threat ourselves."

"Well. Maran, Kaveri is commanding the Wrath, on peacekeeping duties in the former Reich. With this mobilisation her battlecruiser is needed as part of the fleet. But I will raise the idea with her. I will impress upon her the importance, and I will impress upon her the gravity of the request. I had hoped we could be together, but this is serious, and I must convey to her the seriousness of the opportunity. And you can tell the other Admirals of the Alliance that you have her in mind, perhaps that will give you a little more time to find Captain Andreys in."

There was real gratitude in Maran's expression, as stoical as it usually was, and the same was in his voice when he replied. "My thanks to you, Warmaster, and I do understand that I have asked much of you and of your wife. I can indeed buy more time from Personnel with Captain Varma's candidacy. Enough time for Captain Dale's efforts to be fruitful, if they are not done in vain." For Shai'jhur, or anyone that might observe him and know Maran's usual demeanor, there was a visible weariness to Maran he did not normally evince. The attack on Gersal had left its mark on him as thoroughly as any other Gersallian.

"Then you have my blessing, Maran. The storm breaks, still shall we remain."

At the bar in the Lookout, Zack sat without saying a word to anyone. He asked for no food, no drink, nothing but quiet. He needed the quiet. He felt like his heart was going to break into pieces.

The idea of Julia being dead was bad enough, and the year had already been terrible. He'd lost Clara, lost his self-respect and only painfully rebuilt it, then survived the attack on the Citadel and the Battle of Germania. For the woman he loved to die too… there were few things worse than that.

One of those things was the alternative. That Julia was a captive of the SS. An SS which didn't have other factions holding it back anymore. The things they'd do to her, the kind of torture and humiliation they'd put her through, he could barely stand the thought of it. He tried and failed to keep his imagination from considering all of the possibilities.

After letting out a breath Zack started looking for Albert, figuring a small meal or at least a soda were necessary. It was when his eyes scanned across the shelf on the wall that Zack spotted the tall, square bottle of green liquid. He recognized it immediately as Aldebaran whiskey.

For the first time in months, it struck him. A deep, raw need for the haze, the obliteration of his senses. To make everything numb and forget, for even a moment, his pain. Zack looked at the bottle and craved its contents like a man dying of thirst craves a bottle of water. One is too much, he reminded himself. But with his imagination tormenting him with the idea of Julia suffering, with his fear giving him grief that she was dead, or worse than dead, that he would never see her again, would never hear her laugh, never get to exchange jokes or tease each other or put up with her well-intentioned take-charge mother hen bossyness…

Zack's hand twitched. Just a motion and the bartender would come, and he could enjoy a drink and just… no, no he couldn't do this, not again, not after he promised, not after all he went through… he couldn't give in and yet he just needed a drink, just a little one, just to take the edge off, just to dilute the anguish. One drink to make the pain easier to bear...

"Hey Zack."

Jarod's voice got Zack's attention. By the time Zack looked over Jarod was slipping onto the stool to his right, the last stool at this end of the bar. He motioned with a raised hand for the bartender to come over and said, "Another pitcher, your best."

"Yes Commander," the young man replied in a thick accent.

When Zack gave him a wondering look he answered, "Coffee. For those of us in Science Lab 1 going through all of the intelligence Robert got from, well, an unexpected source." Jarod gave Zack a close look and then followed Zack's eyes to the shelf. "We're all worried for her. And we're all wondering the same thing. That it might be better if she died fighting. If they took her…"

"Yeah."

"She's a fighter. And we'll do anything to find her."

"Even if it means going rogue?" A dangerous look came to Zack's eyes. "The Alliance is writing her off as dead."

"MIA, presumed dead."

"This is Davies isn't it?" Zack asked aloud. "He thinks he can get one of his people in command."

"It's a lot of things, I'm sure. But we're not going to stop looking for her, you can be sure of that." Jarod noticed the dangerous look in Zack's eyes. At that moment he fully believed that Zack would, if it came down to it, steal the Koenig if he needed to in order to save Julia.

Although by that same measure, Jarod was certain the crew would steal the Aurora if they needed to accomplish the same.

After glancing to the Aldebaran whiskey on the shelf again, Zack asked, "Did Sydney ask you to come see me?"

Jarod nodded. "He did. But I would have come anyway."

Zack blinked back tears. "Thanks. To both of you."

While Science Lab 1 was the center of the hunt for Julia, Cat was utilizing Science Lab 2 for the same purpose. It was meant for physics and materials sciences, after all, and analysis of the debris from SS ships was part of that. She looked over the twisted, blackened sample she'd acquired from the debris collection now sitting in the lab's analysis chamber. A formidable array of advanced scientific equipment was giving her everything she could imagine on the debris. Its material composition, remnant radiation traces, atomic makeup, every piece of data she might find useful, data that might yet provide a vital clue.

Results from scans flashed over her screens, and Cat set up comparison analysis to see if anything matched. Maybe a unique radiation trace from exposure to a pulsar or some other unique space phenomena. Or if the piece had a unique element or isotope, the origin of which could indicate a possible base.

Minutes passed, hours. Bit by bit, the results came in. And…

...and nothing. Nothing unique. Nothing she could use.

Cat didn't initially notice that she'd started to weep. She just did. She sniffled and let out a small sob full of despair. Julia was out there, she needed help, and Cat could do nothing for her. She didn't have anything to lead her to Julia. Not one damn thing.

The tears were dripping from her chin when the nearest door to Science Lab 2 opened. Tra'dur entered and approached. The young Dilgar pulled up a chair and sat beside her, her feline eyes focusing on Cat. "Cat'Delgado," she said quietly, using the combination of personal and family or clan name that Dilgar always did. "What is wrong?"

"I thought… I thought maybe I'd find something," she said. "Something that would give us a clue on where they came from. Where they might have taken Julia." Cat sniffled and wiped away at the tears flowing from her reddened, fatigued eyes. She glanced at the time display on the nearest screen, which showed the time as 2350. She was due to be up in less than seven hours to report for her morning watch. "But there's nothing. Nothing I can use."

"I see." Tra'dur nodded in understanding. "I know you want to find her desperately, but there will be the next watch to keep the data reduction going. You also need sleep to do your best, Cat'Delgado. That's science, too."

Cat nodded. "But if we don't find her, if I've missed something…" Cat stopped and wiped again at the tears. "I've known her since I was little. I wasn't even ten years old yet, and she was this awesome big kid who could fight my sister and win, and was really cool and nice and… well, she was the first girl outside my family I really liked. Her, and then Susannah. I've already lost Susie…" Cat drew in a breath and the resulting sniffle. "It's funny. Rob was the one who led us into this, and he was the Captain at first, but she was always the one to take the lead for us. To get us to do the job right. And she's done so much and always looked out for us, for me… now I can't even help find her."

"You have tried," Tra'dur replied. "She, the Captain, would understand. She would be proud."

"Yeah, she would. But I just feel… I feel like I haven't done enough."

"Everyone feels that way. Everyone."

"And you?" Cat asked. "Do you feel that way?"

Tra'dur nodded quietly. "Captain Andreys has done much for my people. And she sponsored me through the Officer Training program and gave me my post here. I'll always be grateful to her. I pray that the Gods give her strength and us insight so that we may bring her home."

Cat sniffled again and nodded. "I guess that's all we can do. Pray, I mean." After running her hand over her eyes again, trying to clear the tears, Cat treated Tra'dur to a hug. "Thank you," she said.

Tra'dur, surprised briefly by the embrace, returned it carefully, uncertainly. "You really should get some rest, Cat'Delgado," she said quietly.

Cat responded with a mumbled, "Yeah", and with Tra'dur departed the Lab, bound for her quarters and a good night's sleep.

Even with everything that happened, daily routines were still a part of the lives for those on the Aurora. This included the daily training regimen of Angel Delgado, who was busy pummeling away at one of her punching bags as part of said regimen. Sweat coated her bronze skin, her muscles visibly bulging beneath.

While Angel had a reputation for being hard on the gym punching bags, she was usually not so rough on them. Today was one of those exceptions, as she cut loose, punching and occasionally kicking with enough ferocity that the material of the bag was giving way.

She only stopped when Tony Zah, her boyfriend, called out her name. She turned to face him. He was fresh from a jog, shirtless and in gym shorts. Usually the sight of him like that, with his developed musculature under his tanned complexion, made her appreciate having Tony as a boyfriend. Today she barely gave him a glance.

Tony didn't mind that. He knew why, and he said nothing more until he was beside her. "Want a partner?" he asked.

"I'm fine." She focused on the bag and slammed her fist into it.

"Babe, she's your friend," he said gently. "I understand."

"This wouldn't have happened if we'd been more careful," Angel insisted. "The war ended and we decided it was back to business. We should have been scouring for the damn SS the moment we found out some of them got away! Not building Goddamn science ships!" As she spoke each sentence she picked up the pace of her punches.

"Hey, Babe, look at me?"

Angel turned to Tony, snarling. She looked like she was ready to explode from fury. Wordlessly he stretched his arms open, offering an embrace that by all appearances she was too furious to be interested in.

And yet, she took it, moving up to him and putting her arms around him, letting Tony do the same to her. Tears welled from her hazel eyes. "She's my friend, Tony," Angel said. "They've got my friend."

"I know," he said.

"Aside from Cat, she's the one… I mean, you know about me and Rob, but I met her first. She's my match on the mat. Back in the day, back in Kansas, it was always awesome with her. I'd win, she'd win, and we always shook hands and… and we stayed friends, and did things, and she brought me into the group with the others. As bossy as Julia is, you could, you can always count on her."

"We're getting her back, Angel. Doesn't matter what Portland says, you and the others, you'll find a way. You always do."

The term prompted a small giggle from Angel. The giggle was the only thing stopping a sob instead. "Trying to make me think you're some brilliant therapist type?" she asked.

"I'm just a lunkhead with muscles, what do I know about therapy?" Tony kissed her on the forehead.

"No more than me, I guess." Angel let out a yawn. "I guess I should shower and get to bed. You're due to go on duty soon?"

"Soon, yeah." He let go, and she did too. "See you later for dinner?"

"Your dinner, my breakfast," Angel answered. "Sure."

Tony nodded and walked away. Angel admired the view of her boyfriend from behind before going over to collect her water bottle and towel, which she used to wipe the sweat from her face. He's a keeper, she thought, after which her mind went to the main topic for her. We'll find you, Julia. We'll get you back. Just hold on until we get there, wherever you are…

After being shocked into unconsciousness, Julia spent untold hours in the tank. Her wounds were fully healed by the point that she was fished out, which jolted her back to consciousness.

The men who took her away, two of Fassbinder's troopers, handled her roughly, half-dragging her across the ground. It took several minutes for them to arrive in what was clearly a confinement area. The cells they passed were empty and inactive. All save one, which was to Julia's right. It was to the opposite cell on the left that they took her. One bellowed "Get in!" and drove a black stick in his hand into Julia's ribs. Not only did the impact itself hurt, the stick delivered an electrical shock into her body much like a taser would. Her body seized up painfully. With a contemptuous look they picked her up and tossed her into the cell. The lights around the entrance lit up, warning of an energy field to keep her in.

As they stomped off Julia took in the empty chamber. There was nothing here for her. No bedding, no seats, nothing but a bucket and the hard floor. Fassbinder was determined to make her suffer.

With her energy waning, Julia turned enough to glance to the opposite cell. It was also occupied. She got a glimpse of a figure in red clothing. Before she could notice further detail, her eyelids dropped, too heavy for her to keep them open any longer. Within seconds she was asleep.

Robert's sleep was restful enough. When he awoke he checked for further messages. Finding none, he took the time to process the necessary paperwork to confirm Gina Inviere, as a naturalized citizen of the Gersallian Interdependency and member of the Order of Swenya, was being signed on as a non-military operator for his operations team. He expected it to cause some waves in Portland, but he had the leeway in the Paladins' operating charter, and plenty of character witnesses to Gina's capability and trustworthiness.

Next was a check on the new day's intel reports. There were no further reports of SS or Cylon activity. A major Jem'Hadar and Cardassian force was on sensors near Horizon, drawing in the 5th Fleet, but intelligence believed it was a Dominion test of Alliance defense response after the attack. Another report marked the Romulan activity near Altharra and incidents there. Alliance Intelligence believed it had to do with the pretender to the vacant Romulan throne.

He was just starting to read that report, if just to get his mind off things, when he received the call from Lucy to come to Conference Room 1. He turned off his systems, donned his uniform, and went straight there.

Richmond, Lucy, and Jarod all looked exhausted. Meridina and Anders were present as well, as was a small table with breakfast pastries and treats from Hargert's kitchen. And several pots of coffee. He poured himself a cup and snatched up a jelly-filled strudel to appease his hunger.

Once they were all seated Richmond took the lead. "We've found an item of interest," she said, bringing up an image of several manifests and the image of a space station. It was a ring station with an inner cylinder. Some weapon emplacements were visible. "Toutaine Station," she said. "In orbit over the third moon of a rather nasty desert world in SOT5 Wild Space. The planet is neutral and is home to the Yildiz, a Human nation or tribe of sorts. Toutaine has a marginal habitable zone in the temperate and subpolar regions, and they are for the most part a non-industrial agricultural society going by Solarian records."

"And yet there's a space station in their space," Robert said. "Black market?"

"Officially independent by charter from the planetary government, with links to certain Cevaucian figures of import. They do a hefty traffic in various illicit goods, including, going by this evidence, slavery. In fact, the Amir of Toutaine sells families into off-world slavery as a sort of ultimate punishment."

"And the Aristos are involved now?"

"They're using Toutaine Station as something of a customs point. We're still determining the exact nature of how they get jumps back to A5R0."

"Probably the same way the Orion Syndicate and the Batarians and all of these other criminal organizations do it," Lucy noted. "They pay for jumps like any other ship. And if the jump station network ever gets put into operation…"

"However they do it, Toutaine Station is currently a central point for the trade. Not really surprising given that S0T5 also has a large population of telepaths." Richmond tapped a key and highlighted documentation. "The important part is that we have journal entries and manifests confirming the link to the SS. The SS has been trading captive telepaths and certain technologies to the Aristos in exchange for examples of Eubian technology they consider of interest. And Toutaine Station's position in Wild Space, far from standard Solarian patrols, is an optimal location for these exchanges."

"So we need to go there and find the next link in the chain," said Jarod. "Which is the hard part."

Robert already knew what he was getting at. "The distance is too far for the Jayhawk," he said. "At Warp 6 it would take weeks to get there."

"The Aurora could manage the trip in a few days," Jarod replied. "But Scotty's still working on repairing the warp drive. We're at least a day from warp capability."

"And with the fleet mobilization, we are not free to join you, Robert," Meridina remarked.

"Even if not, I doubt the Aurora could make the journey," said Richmond. "Toutaine is past the far end of Solarian and Cevaucian space. Neither state would appreciate the Aurora entering the area. The Bragulans are another threat. Frankly all of the powers in that region would react badly to the Aurora warping in."

"So what we need is a ship that won't tick them off," Lucy said. "One fast enough to get the Jayhawk to Toutaine." A thoughtful look crossed her face. "Meridina, do you think Kasszas might help? Maybe someone at the Enclave has a ship…"

By this point everyone noticed the thoughtful expression on Robert's face. Lucy and Meridina could sense his distaste and growing resolve. He was about to do something he didn't want to, something he knew would come back to bite him in some way, but at this point he'd do anything to help Julia. "I've got someone better in mind. I'll be back as soon as I'm done." With that he rose from his chair and left.

The walk back to his quarters on Deck 6 gave Robert time to run what he was about to do, about to say, through his head. Over and over he considered his options and knew this was the only viable one. Julia couldn't wait for them to get another ship, a slower one, or to get permission from the Solarians, or any other thing they'd have to do in order to get to Toutaine. He had just this one option. And for Julia, he'd do it, even if it cost him in the long run.

When he arrived in his quarters, Robert immediately sent out a message over the interuniversal comm network. It wouldn't take long for it to go along the relays to its destination. Indeed, only a few minutes passed before the system notified him of an incoming encrypted communication. He confirmed his identity with the system and waited for decryption to process.

When it was done, he was treated to the view of an office desk, behind which a sunset sky was filled with skycars and other vehicles. High rise buildings were plainly visible in the distance. But they weren't the focus of his attention. The figure in the fancy chair was, the chair with the emblem of a winged Moebius sign.

"Hello, Captain Dale," said Sidney Hank.

"Mister Hank, thank you for responding so quickly."

"It was nothing special. I've been waiting for your call," he said. "I have been since I learned Captain Andreys is missing, likely dead."

"She's not dead," Robert said.

"Agreed. Anyone bothering to analyze Erik Fassbinder's known history would know that. He's been after you for a while now." Sidney smiled. It was a very unsettling smile, as if he was savoring the moment. "So what can I do for you?"

Robert had to fight back the urge to scowl. He drew in a breath. It's for Julie, he reminded himself, before answering, "I need your help, Mister Hank."

"Ah." Sidney shifted himself in the seat slightly. His sky blue eyes focused on Robert. "Well, let's be honest, Captain, you can't afford me on a Paladin's salary. Frankly it wouldn't matter, I have more money than I honestly know what to do with, so at this level I don't accept cash payments anyway. And while you have President Morgan's ear, I have other ways of exerting influence with the Alliance Government, I don't need a Paladin to speak for me. In short, there isn't anything you can give me as payment for my services."

"You're right, I can't," Robert said.

"Then you know my price?"

Robert swallowed and nodded. "I do. Just as you offered to me in your office."

"A favor…"

"...for a favor," Robert finished for him.

"And you accept this? Unconditionally?" There was no denying the immense pleasure Sidney showed at the occasion. While he said nothing, the overtone was clear: he was seeing just how far Robert would go, and if Robert was desperate enough to sell his soul. Given that Sidney Hank epitomized the image of being "a man of wealth and taste", there was a certain foreboding quality to the idea.

"Don't make me act against the Alliance, New Liberty, or those I love, and don't ask me to commit mass murder," Robert said. "Those are my conditions."

"Oh Captain, you needn't worry. I'm not a cruel man. I have no intention of ripping your precious conscience to shreds by forcing you to do something you'd find reprehensible. I have people I pay for those kinds of things. People who don't share your peculiar obsession with heroism." The tycoon snapped his fingers. "Your condition is accepted, Captain Dale. Now…" Sidney leaned forward. "...how may I be of assistance?"

Every muscle in Julia's body hurt when she woke up. Her spine protested all of the time spent on the hard floor and her stomach growled a demand for food, food that she was not going to be provided. Her throat was parched dry. Even boiling water would be satisfying.

With her eyes open Julia looked across the cell hall to the other cell and its occupant. Now she could see her fellow prisoner was a Human, a young woman with East Asian coloration and facial features. She had shoulder-length black hair that was disheveled and unkempt. Her clothing was predominately red, a set of loose pants and a short-sleeved vest. Gold trim on the cuffs and neckline, and on the cuffs of the pants legs, provided extra color to her clothing. Julia guessed she was a teenager, or just past twenty at the oldest. Physically she was built solidly, but not thickly, with the faint hint of muscle on her visible arms. The girl's eyes were closed and she looked like she was in a meditative stance.

After a moment's thought Julia prepared to call out to the girl. The sound of stomping feet stopped her. Moments later figures appeared outside of her cell. Fassbinder looked down at her, his unnatural yellow eyes focused intently on her face. One of the troopers with him turned off the cell. "Have you rested well, Kapitan?" he asked, sardonically. "Either way, it is immaterial. The time has come for your interrogation to begin in earnest."

The chamber Julia was brought to was dominated by one large chair with wrist and ankle restraints built into it. A control panel was visible nearby and, along one wall, a flat viewer screen. Fassbinder stood beside it while his troops put her in the chair.

After she was strapped into it a headpiece was lowered, pushing up against her forehead. THe chair began to spin until she was orientated facing away from the viewer. Fassbinder walked into her vision, wearing that small sadistic smile he'd held ever since Julia was brought before him. "This device is a remarkable interrogation tool, Captain Andreys. I admit the Schutzstaffel did not develop it ourselves. We discovered the builders in our initial extrauniversal explorations. Among them was a rather willful, biologically unique individual who was quite willing to trade technology for data on… wurmloch, I believe is the term? Either way, we had data he found useful, and he gave us this." Fassbinder chuckled, as if privy to a brilliant joke. "I am quite amused by the irony. His people refer to this device as the 'Aurora Chair'. It will allow us to pull information from your mind. You will not hide anything from us."

Julia stared at the wall past him, giving no indication she heard him.

"Activate the Chair, Untersturmführer."

Something ripped into Julia's mind, eliciting a strangled cry from her throat as her entire head became alive with pain. She felt like someone was running drills into her brain. Fassbinder diverted his attention past her, where the screen came alive. She felt the chair grab at a memory in her head, the day Maran asked her to become the Captain of the Enterprise, and heard the conversation play over a speaker.

This memory was followed by others. Memories of battles, memories of meetings. Every moment brought searing pain. She struggled briefly against the braces holding her wrists and ankles before letting out another cry.

Whether it was desperation to escape the pain, a desire to feel better, a subconscious impulse to fight the machine… whatever her motivation was, Julia focused on her happiest, most cherished moments. She focused on memories of warm days under the Kansas sun, playing in the Dale farm's endless fields of golden wheat. She thought of sitting and watching movies with her parents. She immersed herself in these happy memories as if they could shield her from the pain.

They didn't. They couldn't. The device continued to burrow into her mind regardless. But all the pain managed to do was redouble her efforts.

She was too focused on these efforts to notice the growing expression of irritation on Fassbinder's face as those same childhood memories played out on the screen. The pain in her head only seemed to grow worse, as if the machine sensed the defiance in her efforts and was determined to thwart her.

It would be some time before the pain became too much, and everything went dark.